Out Of The Blue
by written-at-summer-sunset
Summary: "I don't know why I fell for him, I just did." CeCe used this excuse thousands of times before, but this time she thinks it's true. DeCe contest entry for First Kisses contest.


_**Contest: **_First Kisses

_**Judge: **_cheekymonkey34

_**Pairing: **_DeCe

_**Prompts: **_Hide and Brave

_**Length: **_2,792

* * *

I thought—think—we could (can) be together. We're the same, but different. Not the smartest or brightest, but enough to fit each other.

Maybe that's why I'd thought we'd be so perfect together—because of our flaws. Even after a year of them being together and then apart and then back again—in some repeating cycle—I still think that. And _I'm _one of the people who got them together in the first place. (Right now, they are off, but only for so long.)

Last year, I thought—for a little while—that it was up to me to make the first move and take the giant leap that would ultimately connect our relationship. Until he started dating Savannah and turned me down without even knowing it.

"Wow, you suck." I frown, jumping out of my thoughts with a jolt.

"Huh?" I ask, confused.

Ty points to the screen with his controller. "Were you even paying attention to the game?"

I shrug. "Sorry." But I do not feel sorry.

Ty gasps, hand slapping over his heart dramatically. "Who are you?" he asks in a cry. "What have you done with the real CeCe Jones? The one who never apologizes over anything? Especially a video game?"

"Are you done?"

He holds up a finger; I stare at him blankly. Ty sighs in exasperation and faints against the couch. I mentally get to four before he pops back up, smiling at me before turning serious. "But really, when you're thinking it's a really scary thought."

"Haha," I say without enthusiasm. "Very funny."

With my experience, the worst thing you can do is tell a _boy_ about your _boy troubles. _But that's exactly what I do anyway: "There's this thing…" I mess with the buttons on the remote, "with a guy person."

"_Ohhh,_ a boy," Ty says in a high pitched voice. I roll my eyes. I ask for a teenager to help me babysit, and instead of Rocky I get Ty. He leans closer-elbows on knees-as if honestly interested. "Do tell."

I sigh and throw myself backward and stare up at the ceiling. "Crushes are hard!" I whine.

"Yeah, like that explains so much," Ty quips and hits my knee with his. "Seriously, spill it, girl."

"You'll make fun of me."

"No, I won't."

I give him a look. "I've known you my entire life; yes, you will."

Ty gives me the same look as I give him. "I won't if it's reasonable." When he sees I wouldn't budges, Ty whines, "Com'n, CeCe! It's been forever since you two wussies ever had a real relationship problem; I was starting to get bored!"

That another thing; he's too obsessed with our love lives instead of his own. "Dude," I say, "we're fifteen-your seventeen; get your own love life if you want one so bad." Then I stop and smirk. "Unless you're _finally _admitting we're hotter than you. I mean denial ain't just a river in Utah, bro."

"Let's not forget my girlfriend," a voice adds, the person popping up from behind the couch.

I jump and scream. My body flails as I fall from the couch and nearly smack my head on the coffee table.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Ty shrieks. I kick him in the ribs awkwardly from position half hanging off the furniture. He groans; I smile.

"He's ten, and doesn't need to get a potty mouth from you." And doesn't have a girlfriend either, but I don't say so.

"Whatever."

Flynn clears his throat, leaning forward from behind the couch. How long had been behind there? "Mind telling me who this lover boy is?" He asks. "I'm going to need an idea of his smarts if I plan on pickpocketing him any time soon.

When has he ever done that?

"Fine," I cave finally. Grabbing a throw pillow, I bury my face in it. "Martin."

"Who's he?" is Flynn's curious question that come the same time Ty jumps from the couch and exclaims, "No fudging way!"

He starts cracking up. I fling the pillow off my face and give him a glare. This is exactly why I shouldn't have told him; I knew he was going to laugh. "Shut it," I hiss.

"I can't believe you like Mr. Unibrow," Ty laughs, clapping like some retarded seal. I wonder is he knows how stupid he looks right then and there.

Flynn finally gets and snaps his figure before frowning. "Well, boo," he says sadly, "I was hoping for a better target."

**::::**

I have a plan. It's not exactly foolproof and given much thought, but it's better than what I started out with yesterday: nothing. The paper neatly folded and re-folded is weighing me down as it rests in my pocket, waiting patiently to be put into action.

School's boring. I try at all cost to avoid Rocky today, because everywhere she goes, Dina follows. Honestly, I feel betrayed that she let her attach so easily and found it easier to include her in all the stuff we do. I know that's part of it, but the rest is mainly that Rocky didn't know about my crush and never would as long as I stay as far away from her as possible.

"Hey, CeCe."

My locker bangs into my head as I jump, surprised. Deuce stands behind me, grinning like a cat. My pulse speeds up; I feel nervous and jittery all over. Maybe it was my coffee from this morning or being so close to him or possibly both.

I can't handle this much space not separating us.

"What's up?" he asks casually, leaning against the locker next to mine. He looks so chill and calm and completely and utterly not heartbroken; they only ended a month ago. How could they still be so collected about everything? Maybe they weren't but are in front of me-in front of other people.

I can't explain exactly when I fell for him; why I did. It just sort of happened before I knew it was starting. And isn't stopping anytime soon.

"Nothing," I respond, trying to sound level. "What's up with you?" My foot starts tapping. I swipe my palms on my jeans and bite my lip.

He shrugs. "Nothing much." Deuce brightens, giving me a look as he smirks. "Wanna do something tonight.

This is it. He's already opened the conversation up to my plan, even though he didn't know it. Playing with my fingers, I ask, "You think we can somewhere later?"

Curious, Deuce is staring at me. "Like where?"

I shift my weight, mumbling, "I'll text you later," before heading to English early. It's surprising he doesn't stop me then and there because as everyone knows, I never go to class early.

I take a wrong turn and in my haste, nearly bang into the corner. I have at least twelve minutes before I actually _do _go to History and Deuce should be gone by now, so I round back and eye my surroundings carefully as I sneak up to his locker. I don't know his combination and fortunately don't need it as I jam the note up the little door slots.

"What are you doing?" a voice asks, and I jump again. Standing there is Rocky and Dina. I feel caught, but the note is already set and resting in his locker and freeing me of its burden in my pocket.

Rocky's giving me a look, and Dina just standing there, as if she doesn't want me there in front of her at all.

"Nothing," I cover hurriedly, crossing my arms and shuffling my feet. "What're you guys doing?"

"Looking for Deuce," Rocky says casually, as if she's always saying that. "Dina wants to talk to him. Have you seen him, CeCe?"

I shake my head a little too fast and hope she doesn't notice; Dina doesn't seem to. "Nope—can't say that I have."

Turning before they could ask anything else, I hurry to English (for real this time). I'm still on time, which is still an odd thing for me, and take my normal seat in the third row at the second to last seat. It's right by the window, so I have something to do and do not have to listen.

I only hope my note will not fail me. But just in case, I slip my phone out and write a quick text.

_Meeting at the old hut. You in?_

I read it over—kind of mysterious, but too much, just the way it should sound. Sending it, the teacher comes in a flurry of loose papers and a coffee breeze.

**::::**

After school, I avoid Rocky and her tagalong, but send Ty a quick text about how I finally got a spine and did it. He isn't too thrilled with my taste in guys, but happy for me nonetheless.

I ditch my school stuff and home and grab an old jacket stuffed in the back of my closet before taking it off. I run pretty well in my boots but I'm worn out when I reach the old tree house. It still sits in the big tree behind the park, a little broken-looking, but the same away from home all the same. Climbing, I go up and up until I reach the little door; I give it a push and hoist myself up. The splintery wood feels the same under my bottom; I shed my coat and stand.

Standing and sighing, I move closer to the wall. I run my fingers against the papered walls, smiling. The walls—our protection as our kid-selves used to call them—consists of yellowed, colored drawing and tiny random, taped up strips and scraps. My phone lies next to me, unmoving as I inspect everything. I sent the text a while ago and so far he isn't responding

An unexplainable pang between my eyes tries to tell to turn away. But even if Deuce doesn't show, I get to be surrounded by our memories. So maybe I am avoiding my problems, but that's better than denying them altogether, isn't it?

A thump sounds from under my feet; I frown and get down on my knees again, crawling over to the crooked window to peek over the edge. No one's standing there from where I can tell.

"What'cha looking at?"

I scream, falling back and hitting my head against the wood floor. Deuce looks down on me from when he's coming through the floor. He's smiling. Jerk.

"I hate when you do that," I groan. Sitting up, my head goes up to feel a small knot at my head.

Deuce shrugs. "Sorry." He's completely inside now—off the ladder and sitting next to me. He doesn't meet my eyes, but instead stares at the dark screen on my phone. "I saw your note. And the text."

I nod. "I see."

A construction site carries its ruckus through the window. It settles over the silence. We lay side by side, looking through the planks of wood and at the tiny slivers of sky that show.

I grin as I realize him and I could do this forever. It wouldn't be such a bad thing—lying with Deuce being my forever. We could sit and talk and laugh and do anything because that's what we do.

"Do you think anyone would notice if we stay up here forever? Just you and me?" Deuce shifts his head to look at me.

"I don't think so," he answers softly. Our hands intertwine. "When I get a car, can you promise me something?"

"What should I promise you?"

Deuce turns from me and back to the tiny slivers of sky, thoughtfully saying, "This place will be far behind us. The only thing we have to worry about is each other and how much gas would cost. Can you promise me that?"

I smile, looking down at our twined fingers as I say, "I wish we could." Because we both know we can't.

"Still," he continues, "Wouldn't it just be nice to escape? Even just for a little while?"

"Of course."

We leave the conversation to hang, looking straight at each other as I speak the words. My eyes dart to his lips before bouncing back up and meeting his again. Deuce's eyes had changed; there's a dangerous—but very alluring, I must add—glint that makes me nervous.

"But can you promise me something else?" His breath puffs against my lips and I try to hold back my shudder.

I hope my tone isn't as nervous as I think as I ask, "Like what?"

"Like this."

Deuce makes to first move. Admittedly, for years everyone's teased him because he's never been brave enough to make the first move when it came to _anything_. His warm lips settling over mine catches me by surprise, but I quickly start to kiss back.

At least I hope that's what I'm doing. I've never kissed anyone before because I'd been saving it for him. I never thought that I'd actually be saving it up for something though.

Our lips dance together on and on until my lungs start to hurt and beg for air. We both pull away, lips tingling.

"Can _you _promise me something?" I ask, panting slightly as I tighten our intertwined fingers.

Deuce looks more amused than thoughtful as he answers. "Alright, I'll bite."

"That we can do that again someday."

**::::**

It's a week and I haven't seen him since. Rocky and Dina still pester me and pester me for something I will not give them.

"It could be that he thought your breath stunk," Ty offers. "Or that his breath stunk; that's a possibility that could go either way."

I slam my locker door shut and point at him with my pencil. "You, sir, are a ray of sunshine."

"Hey," Ty says with his hands up. "I'm just trying to help you."

"Why don't you go help yourself and pluck that monster of a nose hair showing off to the world."

He squeals and runs off to the nearest boy bathroom. I snicker and get back into my locker, when the world suddenly darkens. I let my hands fly up to my eyes, trying to pry the fingers from my eyes.

"How's it going?" His breath tickles to top of my ear and I shiver. Turning in his arms, my back presses up against the locker—I'm aware of the disappearing space between us.

My lips (damn, how can he make me so nervous?) tremble as I speak. "Nothing."

Our lips meet.

That's how our story starts. Small kisses and sweet confessions before Deuce really asks, but I'm happy all the while. We have something that none of his other relationships, something that works.

With new relationships, comes a new bravery I use in my favor. Rocky and Dina know, and though neither are surprised, one Jersey decent girl is very pissed off at me, but for now, I can tell with it. Rocky's okay with it, didn't explode like I thought she would, but isn't entirely happy with it either. But I don't mind.

"What got us together?" Deuce asks one day, in our secret hideout. We are alone, the skies are gray, and I feel happy as we hold hands.

I smile as I think. "Well, let's think about this together." I turn, my head resting calmly on his shoulder and our connected hands on his chest. "We have here." I nod to confirm my thought. "This place got us together."

"And the little hide and seek game you thought would be fun to play," he adds as a joke. I snuggle into his sides more.

We're not perfect. And we don't want to be. The greatest thing—I think—for a relationship, is when each is brave enough to step outside the box. And you can't get any more outside the box than not wanting a perfect relationship.

I never saw the point in perfect, anyway.


End file.
